The Visitors

I lived at St. Basil's Academy from 1984 to 1990. In that span, thousands of people, from all over the world came to visit our campus. These people were always known as "The Visitors."

"The Visitors" came for all sorts of reasons. Around Christmas time, they brought cool gifts with them. Then, in the spring, they hosted monumental cook-outs and barbecues for us. Finally, in the summer, which was also the end of the school year, they would attend our graduation ceremony. That was always a special day, because it combined gift-giving and cook-outs. It was like an explosion of generosity from our adult and sometimes teen visitors.

For many of us, they symbolized who we wanted to be when we grew up. Successful Greek adults, who took time to give back to the community. They were always smiling and telling us funny stories about the "real world." The took us outside of campus, to shop, eat or just to experience the outside world for a day. This is a world we were sheltered from most of the time.

We looked forward to the visitors' arrival. Sometimes, they would surprise us. We would flock around them like they were some kind of side-show. What always baffled me was why they were so damn happy to see us and why they were generous to us. Why did they always have gifts? Why did they love us so much? We really didn't get it. I'm not going to lie, I loved it! And, I never really questioned it. I just accepted my gifts, said thank you, and smiled big. They never told us how sorry they felt for us, or how their hearts melted when we accepted their gifts. Looking back, I don't think I thanked them enough.

A man named William Vlandis was my favorite visitor. "Bill" always told me he visited, because he loved the campus so much. But, that never really explained why he was buying me clothes, records, food, shoes and toys. I later found out, Bill thought the world of me, because of what I had been through. He told me, years later, that all he wanted to do was make sure a kid like me saw the good in the world, and that there was more to life than just agony, poverty and pain. Bill used to introduce me to people as his little brother. I always thought of him as a dad. We don't talk much any more, but I hope he's satisfied with the man I've become. Further, I hope the man I've become is a lot like him.